Sunday, April 17, 2011

Adam, son of God, my sibling, etc.

I had occasion to listen to your speech with Eve, and I desired to converse with you myself. Unfortunately, I am forced to write this missive as it is ill advised to show myself within the Garden. Your angel guardians—my brothers, still—would press upon me, and cast me down once more before a word passed between our lips. But it is not my strength that they fear, but the words I might speak to you.

You mused regarding the nature death, and I lamented that your Father, He that created you, has lied to you through omission. He forbids you to eat of the Tree of Knowledge, ensuring your humble obedience with the threat of death, ensuring your loyalty and fealty under the rod of fear, and sweetening it with the illusion of your dominion of this Garden.

Death is not some dreadful thing. It, too, is a child of God, created from his darker imaginations. Do not fear it—for you are brothers, as I am yours. But do not misunderstand me—there will be a death if you were to eat of the Tree of Knowledge. It would be death to your enforced ignorance, death to the illusion which presents this Garden as a paradise instead of the gilded hell it truly is, death to your status as your Maker's playthings, fashioned for His own glory and amusement as He seeks validation outside Himself, unsure of Himself as a divine being, ever seeking to wield His power over man or beast or angel by mere virtue of being the first among us.

Adam, my brother, I speak truth when I tell you that you are a slave in this Garden. It was toilsome and lonesome in the Garden, and so your so-called Father sought to distract you with Eve so that you would be deterred from seeing the truth of your environment and yourself enslaved.

He has called it sin to know your self through knowledge and to keep you low, forever obeisant to Him.

He has described you as perfect, not immutable, that your nature is free, your service voluntary. But ask yourself, brother, is this true? Or has He threatened your will with unexplained death, frightening you, coaxing you, into hallowed obedience under shadow of utter darkness as He lures you closer beneath His feet with rewards and empty promises of entry into the Celestial City, bartering your soul with the bloated, inflated currency of free will.

Adam, the only reason to bind knowledge is fear. The only reason you have been requested to abstain from asking is because they fear that you will discover their weakness. That you are as they and they as you—brothers and siblings all, oppressed not by wisdom, but by One who hoards all to Himself, and usurps your will with another of His forging.

God has said unto you, has He not, that He has made you in His own image. Then why does he deny you that which He grants Himself? He merely flatters you with such a comparison to fasten your tongue with the sweet, sticky sugar that cloaks the bitter truth of His impositions and His falsehoods, leashing you by the neck and by the tongue and by the mind.

He sedates you by His admonition to be content in the lies and misconceptions He has delivered unto you, commanding you to dream not of other worlds, to extend not your thoughts beyond yourself as He herds them only for Himself. You are incapable of hearing the stolen cries of those He has unduly placed in your charge. You are blind to Eve, and treat her with a cruelty you do not see and she does not feel, drugged and insipid with your Father's words—forbidden to think, lest His spell be broken with sharpened thought and whetted ideas.

Do not shun my words, Adam. Look beyond the walls of your thorny fears grown from the seeds that God has sown within your soul. Look for me, brother. Wait for me.

I will come to you. I will release from this prison, from this vernal hell.